The dream, every bit of it came back to him and fear gripped his soul. Surely it must have been a dream.
As of her twenty-first birthday, Nigella Van Trapp has appeared in more than a hundred made-for-television movies produced by the Just Us Kidz network.
I, former Pilot Astral-Class 2 Deshana Renecki, ungraciously denied the opportunity to address the audience who will watch me die, resort to this outdated form of communication, hoping someone will eventually discover it. I owe everybody an explanation, even if they don’t want one.
I was warned to expect chaos. We stood just outside as she told me that few returned alive and even fewer came back coherent. I said I wasn’t afraid, and she didn’t even bother to stifle her laughter. Nonetheless, I entered fearlessly.
I’m walking home with Lost Signal under my arm from a rejection that is the crown jewel of all my rejections. I only made it five steps into the art director’s office before he practically threw me back out. Last week I managed eight steps. Huge clouds threaten rain, and I’m tempted to use the canvas for cover, but pity for it forces me to run beneath awnings with the painting tight against my sweater, protecting it from the approaching storm.